


We’re With You

by mrs_t2019



Series: We’re With You [1]
Category: Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Crying, Cuddles, Gen, Hugs, Hurt/Comfort, Nightmares, PTSD, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Peter Parker gets all the hugs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-02
Updated: 2018-09-02
Packaged: 2019-07-06 03:15:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,232
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15877359
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mrs_t2019/pseuds/mrs_t2019
Summary: He saw Natasha and Clint kneeling on the floor next to Peter, who was curled upright in a ball with tears streaming down his red face. Steve was cleaning up a wound on Bucky’s eyebrow at the kitchen counter, the latter watching Peter worriedly.





	We’re With You

**Author's Note:**

> This will be a series! Enjoy!

“Boss, they need you upstairs,” FRIDAY said over the intercom. Tony ignored the AI, continuing to weld the new piece to Peter’s suit that would auto-shoot his webs if necessary. All of a sudden, his equipment shut down and he looked up in anger. He gave FRIDAY too much free will.

“FRIDAY, what the f—.”

“I’m sorry, Boss, but Peter is in distress. The others need help.”

At that, Tony dropped his tools and threw his welding goggles, running up the stairs as fast as he could. He saw Natasha and Clint kneeling on the floor next to Peter, who was curled upright in a ball with tears streaming down his red face. Steve was cleaning up a wound on Bucky’s eyebrow at the kitchen counter, the latter watching Peter worriedly. Tony rushed over and knelt in front of Peter, Natasha and Clint shifting to either side of the boy with their hands on his shoulders. Natasha leaned over to whisper in Tony’s ear.

“He had a nightmare and hit Bucky when he tried to wake him up,” she told him. Tony nodded and took Peter’s hands in his own, rubbing the backs gently.

“Hey, buddy. I need you to look me,” he said, the signs of his panic attack so glaringly obvious. Peter’s eyes were so distant.

“Can’t,” Peter whimpered, not actually talking to Tony.

“Peter, come back. Come on, look at me. You gotta focus,” Tony encouraged, tapping his thumbs on his wrists. It wasn’t working. He reached a hand up to push the sweaty locks off his forehead. Still no response. Suddenly, Peter let out a sharp breath. His face turned white. Tony’s heart began pounding. He’d never seen Peter act like this before. “Pete, can you hear me? Peter, answer me.”

Tony reached a hand up to tap on Peter’s cheek, but still received no response. It was like he didn’t even know they were there with him. Over the next few seconds, Peter’s eyes began turning red and his lips blue.

“Wait a second...” Clint raised his hand to hover in front of Peter’s mouth, looking down so he could focus. His eyes went wide.

“Clint?” Natasha asked.

“Shit, he’s not breathing. Lay him down, now,” Clint said, standing and running into the kitchen. Tony and Natasha did as they were told, tipping Peter and straightening him out to the best of their ability with his tense muscles. Clint came back with a wet hand towel. “Move.”

“What are you doing?” Tony asked as he moved behind Peter, Natasha sitting above the boy’s head.

“It should bring him out of it before he passes out,” Clint answered as he pressed the cloth to Peter’s forehead, dabbing it around his face. It was almost instantaneous. Peter took in a deep breath and choked, coughing harshly. Tony let out his own breath he didn’t know he’d been holding and turned Peter onto his back, pulling him up into his arms for a warm hug.

“You’re okay now, you’re back. It’s all right,” he whispered, dropping back to sit on his bottom as he cradled the teenager. Peter’s entire body was shaking, his eyes wide with shock.

“W-W-What hap-pened?” he struggled to say, clinging to Tony in fear. Tony pulled back to look down at him, still holding his torso.

“Just a bad dream. That’s all. You’re all right,” he lied. He didn’t want him to get upset again. His attempt was futile, though, as Peter looked around the room. He saw first the shattered glass of the coffee table, then the blankets and pillow on the floor, and finally Bucky, who had a butterfly bandage over his brow. Everything came rushing back to him and he whimpered.

“Oh, God,” he choked out, feeling his heart rate speeding up again. He knew what came next. He scrambled away from Tony, not wanting to hurt him, and pushed himself into the corner of the room, wrapping his arms around his knees and rocking back and forth.

“Pal, what’s—.”

“Let me try, Tony. My kids have done this before,” Clint cut in, holding up a hand. Tony felt a certain kind of way about being told to back off of his kid, but if it helped Peter...

Clint slowly walked over to Peter with the washcloth still in hand. The teenager huddled back further, trying to get away. Clint knelt in front of him and smiled.

“Hey, buddy. Everything’s okay. Can I park it here?” he asked as if speaking to a small child. When Peter didn’t protest, just looked at him with terror-filled eyes, Clint sat beside him and held out a hand. Peter stared at it for a moment before shakily placing his own it in, keeping his mouth pressed into the arm still around his knees. The older man squeezed it and watched him for any signs of relaxation, but saw none. He had to distract him. “Pete, can you sit your head back so I can clean your face? You’ll feel a lot better, honestly.”

Peter didn’t seem upset at his soft tone, but he made no move to do as he was asked. Clint thought back to when his children did this. It stopped after about age three, but he knew the signs anywhere.

“Okay, I’m just gonna get what I can here,” he told him, making sure he saw the washcloth before carefully touching it to his forehead, running it down his cheek and across the back of his neck.

“C-Cold,” Peter said quietly. The archer knew he wasn’t talking about the cloth.

“You wanna come sit with me?” Clint suggested. Tears were still falling down the poor kid’s face and he just looked so miserable. It was almost adorable when he nodded slowly. Clint released his hand and held out his arm in invitation, Peter crawling into his lap and pushing his head under his chin. Clint washed the rest of his face before setting the cloth on the ground and wrapping his arms around him, rubbing his back. “Atta boy. There you go. It’s okay. You’re all right.”

“I h-hurt Bucky.” Clint pressed his lips to his hair, hoping it would be another distraction as his breath warmed his scalp and shifted his hair.

“Nah, he’s okay. He’s a tough guy. And he knows it wasn’t your fault.”

“Broke the table.”

“Because Stark can’t get another? You know how many he’s broken?” Peter shook his head. “I know of five, at least. But I promise, everyone’s okay. Nobody’s upset at you.”

Peter took in a shaky breath, but Clint was happy to see the color coming back into his face. They sat this way for a few more minutes until Clint happened to look up, seeing everyone staring at him and Peter. Natasha and Tony had moved to one of the couches while Steve and Bucky took another. Tony was leaning back against the armrest, his left leg bent up against the back on the couch, his right foot on the floor, and his chin propped against the fingers of his right hand. Clint looked back down at Peter, whose sobs had turned into hiccups as he lay limp against him.

Tony had been watching the two intently, trying to remember everything Clint had done just in case it happened again. He’d never seen it before and it was frightening to know that Peter had this problem. He’d have to remember to ask FRIDAY to get him all the information on it later. Right now, he just wanted to be with Peter. Clint glanced up again and saw the lost look on Tony’s face, the longing in his eyes. It was his turn.

“If I stay like this much longer, Pete, I’m gonna get stuck forever. You wanna go sit with your old man?” he asked. Peter nodded, looking up at Tony. “Up you go.”

Peter stood on wobbly legs, holding onto Clint’s forearms as they stood. He avoided Bucky’s gaze, keeping his eyes on the ground until they got to Tony. The man opened his arms and Peter fell into them, sitting on the couch in the space between his legs. Tony situated him so that the teenager’s legs were tossed over his right knee, holding him securely and trying to look down at his face, but Peter had buried it in Tony’s shoulder.

“Your face is gonna get stuck there,” he joked softly, reaching up to push Peter’s hair off of his forehead. He felt Peter chuckle slightly and smiled. “Look at me, kiddo.”

Peter slowly pulled back so Tony could cup his cheek, leaning into his cool palm. Tony pulled him forward to kiss his forehead, keeping his left arm around shoulders.

“Mr. Stark, I’m so sor—.” Tony put a finger against his lips.

“Nuh uh, the adult is talking,” he admonished gently. Peter stared at him with so much love and fear that his stomach twisted. “No more apologies. You didn’t do anything wrong. None of this is your fault. But I know you, and I know you won’t feel better until Bucky clears it, right?”

Peter shrugged, but knew he was right. He had punched Bucky in the face in the throes of his nightmare. He’d lost control.

“Hell, even then you’ll still feel guilty. I get it, kid. Trust me. But you gotta believe me. This wasn’t you. Now, go give Capsicle Lite a hug and a kiss and make up,” Tony teased. Peter chortled and turned his eyes to Bucky, huddling against Tony. His mentor was watching the former Winter Soldier for any sign of discomfort, relieved when he saw none coming from the man leaning against Steve, who had his left arm around his shoulders in a very relaxed manner.

“C’mere, Squirt,” Bucky said good-naturedly, sliding over to make room between himself and Steve. Tony gave him a nudge and Peter walked over to sit down, pulling at the sleeves of his long-sleeved shirt. Bucky put his right arm around his shoulders and held him close, nuzzling his hair with his nose as he spoke. “Everything’s okay, pal. I know you didn’t do any of that by choice. You had a bad dream and reacted. Steve’s gotten his fair share of busted cheekbones on my account, so I know how you feel. But you can’t dwell on it, and you can’t let it stop you from sleeping. Promise me that.”

“I promise,” Peter mumbled, twisting to wrap his arms around Bucky’s torso. Bucky froze for half a second, surprised, but quickly hugged him back. He saw Tony nodding his approval, looking down with a sniff. Steve smiled and patted his best friend’s shoulder, careful not to startle Peter. The boy was now crying into his chest. Not out of distress, but out of sheer exhaustion and guilt. “I’m so sorry, Bucky.”

“Shh, it’s okay. It’s all right. I’m fine. You have nothing to apologize for,” he whispered with a small chuckle, rubbing large circles on his back. Peter found nothing even slightly humorous about it, though, and squeezed him tighter. Bucky laid his left hand on the back of Peter’s head and cradled it against his chest. “Everything’s all right. Sh, sh, shh.”

Bucky continued this mantra for about 10 minutes, Peter’s tears gradually slowing, small shuddering breaths and hiccups escaping him. Clint appeared next to them with a bottle of water and Peter sat up with a quiet _thank you_ , taking smalls sips from it to avoid choking. Bucky ran a hand through his curls and patted his back when he lowered the bottle, the boy’s eyes once again trained on the ground.

“You okay, big guy?” Steve asked from his right, leaning forward to brace his elbows on his knees.

“Yeah, I just...I don’t want that to happen again,” Peter said in a sullen tone.

“I know, but you can’t worry about that right now. In our line of work, nightmares are going to happen. And Bucky wasn’t kidding. Shattered cheekbone, busted lip, broken nose, punch to the gut...” Steve rattled off.

“Hey!” Bucky exclaimed, reaching behind Peter to punch him in the shoulder.

“...dislocated shoulder,” Steve continued, rubbing said limb. Peter laughed a bit, the tension in the room diffusing immensely. “What I’m trying to say is these things happen. We’ve all got pasts that affect us, but we’re also here for each other. Just like we’re here for you.”

“Thank you, guys,” Peter said.

“You don’t ever have to thank us for helping you,” Bucky said, squeezing him and rubbing his arm. “Go wash your face. It’s almost dinner time.”

Peter stood and went to his room to get cleaned up. The adults in the room sighed and sat back in their seats.

“This isn’t gonna be easy on him,” Bucky said quietly.

“No kidding. We’ve gotta figure something out,” Tony replied, just as softly. With Peter’s enhanced hearing, they’d have to make this fast.

“Then we’ll stay with him at night. At least for this week. Just to wake him up if he starts having a nightmare,” Natasha said, her voice like steel. No room for questions or objections. They all nodded in agreement. “Tony, you take tonight so he doesn’t get suspicious. He doesn’t need to know.”

“Done,” Tony answered as he moved to the kitchen to start making their dinner while the others cleaned up the shattered table. 


End file.
